A Game of Khajiit and Skeever
by Agrestic
Summary: A short story about the Thieves Guild Master and the Khajiit he's smitten with. Too bad she's trying to kill him. Emphasis on trying. Shavari & OC


Just for fun.

Enjoy. :)

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Diemo had led her on a merry chase, but she didn't look like she was having much fun. As he ran between the aspen trees he could hear her right behind him, growling when he'd suddenly sprint left or dart right. He managed to twist fast enough to avoid her dagger, and as she fell forward he planted his foot in her back and pushed off.

She landed on all fours, sliding along the dirt and leaves until she was facing him again. Crouched down like their wild ancestors, she was a mighty fine sight. A slender Khajiit with a narrow frame, slight curves, and small breasts. Her ears had one gold hoop each, and her silky black hair trailed down her back and curled just at the nape of her neck. Oh and her eyes! Such heat and passion! Amber pools of hatred, just for him!

She was young, so her face was still full of color, and her patchwork tones intrigued him. An auburn patch here, a black one there, and he wondered what the rest of her body looked like under the leather she wore. It was better than the tattered orange dress he'd first seen her in. The armor she was in today was rust colored, sleeveless, and hugged every inch of her from toes to throat.

Shavari let out a feral groan as she slunk towards him, her tail held high and puffed out as her ears flattened against her head.

He chuckled loudly before dropping on all fours as well, but there was no mistaking the playful way he tilted down or how wide his pupils became. Diemo was solid black, tall, broad, had a long nose and wide jaw, and on more than one occasion he'd been accused of being a wolf. But wolves didn't nap in the sunshine or steal jugs of milk from the cistern when Rune wasn't looking. Silly accusations.

She prowled forward, ready to attack, her eyes narrowed in on his throat. She was going to do everything in her power to kill him. One way or another, she had to prove herself to be indispensable to the Thalmor. Nothing was worse than an assassin who couldn't do her job.

But in the dappled light and falling golden leaves she could tell that he wouldn't be so easy to kill. For days she'd been following him, the note from Elenwen tucked into the pocket over her chest. She'd tried killing him in the Ratways below the city, but his thieving buddies had robbed her blind of her own dagger and sent her on her way before she'd even known what was happening.

Every time she'd honed in on him, someone, whether man or mer in tight brown armor, would either bump into her or send a guard after her while singing, "Thief! Thief! It was the Khajiit!"

She didn't like the rhyme, the stinking humans, or him! He'd been playing with her for a week straight! And she'd had enough.

Digging her boots into the dirt, she sprang forward, claws outstretched and lips pulled back into a ferocious roar. He rose to meet her, grabbing her wrists as her claws sunk into his shoulders and dropping his weight back onto the earth. Using the momentum, he rolled backwards like a wheel until she was on bottom, and she gave a muffled grunt as his weight came to rest on her stomach. He still held her arms spread, and she hissed at him as he grinned.

She could feel his tail flicking eagerly against her own, and she tried bucking him off as he laughed.

"This is not a game!" She growled, and he tilted his head at her with a confused look.

"It's not? This one is confused. He was sure the pretty woman only wanted to play." He bent down until his face was inched from hers, and he playfully brushed her whiskers with his own. She bucked again and his grin widened.

"You have been playing Khajiit and skeever with me for almost a week. Now you have me and you don't want to play anymore? Tsk. Tsk." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "You picked the wrong man to play with."

"I did not come here to play." She growled, breathing deeply. "The Thalmor's memory is long. Like this one, they have no mind for games!"

"There is always a need for games." He purred, and he lowered his face into her neck and took a whiff. He groaned into her fur, lifting his head playfully as he nuzzled her face and rubbed his cheek against hers.

She twitched away, her lips pulling back as she hissed at him.

"This one does not understand. I've caught you. The game is over. Can we not reward one another until the chase is on again?" Diemo asked, looking confused and hurt for a moment.

She shook her head angrily. "The Thalmor know of your involvement with the raid on the embassy, Dragonborn! This is no game! They want your blood."

"Aw! You have me mistaken for another person. The Thalmor hunt the wrong man. This one was merely completing a job. I know nothing. Honest." He said slowly, chuckling. "I am not the Dragonborn."

He thought back to the masked Dunmer who had paid his organization a hefty sum to infiltrate the embassy and return with several specific items.  
Since coming into the position as the Guild Master, Diemo had allowed the other members of the guild to take on the usual rounds of work.

But for the masked woman, for the Dragonborn, he'd taken the embassy job on personally. Diemo had no idea what the Dragonborn wanted with the documents, but he'd hand delivered them to her without question. His representation of the Thieves Guild had been immaculate, so he'd been told.

In truth, he really didn't know anything. All the documents had been sealed with an official Thalmor stamp set in wax, and he hadn't even gotten a chance to peek at them before he'd been chased away by approaching agents. The whole ordeal had been more exhausting than it was worth.

Plus, there had not been one golden candlestick or chest of jewels in the building.

Diemo knew. He'd checked.

"I read, heard, and saw nothing." He said, returning his attention to the woman beneath him once more. She was staring at him, her brows pulled together as she tried to piece together what he'd said.

So he was not the Dragonborn? Than the rumors were false. She'd been sent to the wrong place. Her sources had told her the Dragonborn would be in Riften, and after memorizing his scent at the embassy, she'd followed it around the filthy, thief filled city for a week!

"The pretty woman looks like she could use some... relaxing."

She roared loudly as she wrenched her wrist free and dragged her claws across his face. He gripped her bicep, painfully squeezing it before slamming her back down into the earth. He groaned in pain, and dug his claws into her arm until he drew blood. Across his face were four long and bleeding slashes.

She didn't make a sound, just continued to glare up at him with her ears drawn back. He blinked away the blood that was dripping into his eyes. He'd never been struck before. Ever. No one in the guild matched his speed, and even less would have been able to pull free from his grip like that.

Diemo was a Khajiit, a ripple of shadow, a truly devote worshiper of Nocturnal, a playful beast, and a merciful man. He'd been the target of assassins before. Even Mercer Frey had drawn his blade to finish the Khajiit once before all had been put to right. But this time, his nature had taken it too far, and he hummed through the pain.

"This one deserved that." He said, shaking his head which caused droplets of blood to splatter Shavari and the ground around them.

As a protegé of Brynjolf, he forced himself to take a deep calming breath and refrain from striking her back. Shavari began struggling and hissing, twisting herself and trying to lash out at him with her legs as well. But she couldn't get a grip on him, so after several minutes of fighting she slumped down, her chest rising and falling as she closed her eyes against the sun.

Diemo had simply sat there, adjusting when he felt her slip, or putting more weight on her when he felt she might be able to get free.

"Are you done?" He growled, narrowing his gaze at her.

She met his gold-colored eyes without flinching.

"You will pay for meddling in the Thalmor's affairs and aiding the Dragonborn. I will make sure of that."

He pulled back and shrugged nonchalantly. He would accept her challenge, and find some way to pay her back for his unwelcome behavior.

"Fair enough. My apologies in advance for this."

Like lightning, he released her and brought the hilt of his dagger down on her head. It only took one hit before she was out cold, and she became limp as all the tension left her body. He stood then, poking her hip with his boot to make sure she truly was out before he tentatively touched his face. The flesh was still screaming in pain, so he let his hands drop to his side.

Bending, he tied her hands with a bit of rope he always kept on his belt, and swung her over his shoulders as he straightened up.

The slender Khajiit weighed close to nothing, and he carried her back through the woods of the Rift towards town, idly stroking the softness of her tail since he'd receive no complaint. Coming up on the stables, he flopped her into the back of a carriage and walked around to the driver.

"What do you think you're doing?" The man asked, twisting around in his seat to watch Diemo's slow walk. "You can't just dump her in here-"

Diemo lifted a heavy coin purse from his hip and dropped it into the mans lap. The Nord grew silent before tucking it into the small chest under his bench and picking up the reigns.

"Where do you want me to go?" He asked, still uneasy as he glanced up at the guards a couple of feet away on either side of the gate.

"Solitude sounds good to this one." He said, grinning up at the man. "Better get there before she wakes up."

The driver looked back at her anxiously before snapping the reigns and guiding the horses down the hill. Diemo stood by the stables, still able to see her boots as the carriage ambled down the road then out of sight.

He couldn't help but smile, thinking that when she finally came around he'd be the first thing on her mind.

Heading back into the city, he slunk into the shadows of the Ratways. She'd return in a couple of days, depending how far the carriage made it, and he wanted to be long gone by the time she got back to Riften.

He packed his knapsack, threw on his traveling cloak, left Brynjolf in charge, and started North towards Winterhold.

It was time to start a new game.

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**Yes, in my version the Thieves Guild Master and the Dragonborn are two, very different people. **

**I don't know if I'll ever try these two out again, but it was kinda fun to write. **

**Hope you enjoyed. :)**


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